


fucking strangers

by notmykink



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Kissing Kink, M/M, One Night Stands, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, oh my god i know im so sorry the kissing kink was not intentional
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 19:41:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11065788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmykink/pseuds/notmykink
Summary: He hates the guy. Hates his guts. He’d never fall for a guy like that. And that’s exactly the reason he decides to reach out for the glass, raising it and clinking it against the stranger’s. His smirk widens, different than the one he gave the bartender or the women from earlier, the one he had attempted to use on Iwaizumi at first. This one isn’t feigning innocence; it’s predatory and dangerous, ravenous. Iwaizumi wants to wipe that smirk off his face.“I’m Oikawa; Oikawa Tooru,” the stranger says, reaching his hand out for Iwaizumi to take it.“Iwaizumi,” he replies, shaking his hand before lifting the glass to his lips again, emptying it.





	fucking strangers

**Author's Note:**

> ok so the title while writing this was "strangers, fucking???" and lmao... im still not good at titles so i was just like. what if i like switch the words and it could both mean like "ugh, fucking strangers" but also "to fuck as strangers" ya kno?
> 
> anyway. this is an au where they are grownups, don't know each other and are simply looking to fuck. no, iwaizumi doesn't hate oikawa i love them so much so much but my friend explicitly challenged me to write a fic where they weren't as soft and loving lmao. and they were strangers (-> strangers, fucking)  
> in fact i have a theory that the accidentally added kissing kink was my subconscious attempt at making it soft anyway
> 
> i made an attempt. fuck editing we die like men. hope it's okay. enjoy

The entire conference had been a bust. He had barely gotten any work done, and for once Iwaizumi wouldn’t actually blame himself for it.

Iwaizumi really hates when people care more about flirting than their actual work, wasting their time on shit usually reserved for less busy times than conferences. The entire group of female business people, flocking around the annoying albeit handsome man like moths to a candle. It would probably piss him off less if it didn’t remind him of his own work partner who suffered the same problem, except with men (something Iwaizumi could only imagine was significantly worse). Even after she had gotten married to her girlfriend, Shimizu had to deal with men more interested in discussing evening plans than business deals. But what really tops the cake, what _really_ gets Iwaizumi’s piss boiling, is the fact that this man seems to enjoy the attention, _thriving_ off of it, as if he’s there just to break hearts, his wide, fake smile plastered onto his face, his eyes somehow always falling on Iwaizumi whenever Iwaizumi accidentally looks in his direction.

Now, normally Iwaizumi can live with this, just ignore it. While he’s not scared of confrontation, he doesn’t go around looking for trouble either, he doesn’t _really_ care whatever people are doing as long as they’re not being a nuisance to others. But for some reason, this guy seems to suddenly be in his vicinity _every single time_ Iwaizumi has a conversation with one of the businesswomen, sometimes just walking past and laughing a bit too loud, at one point going as far as to fucking walk over and offer the people a drink - you know, the drinks that waiters are walking around serving freely to _everyone_ at the conference _-_ seemingly just to make sure Iwaizumi doesn’t get a single deal made. Iwaizumi tries not to judge a book by its cover, tries not to get too quick impressions of people, because first impressions _can_ be wrong. But he has never felt so much hate for a person blossom in such a short amount of time.

After most of the conference is over, after people has gone home, started switching conversation topics from business to pleasure, Iwaizumi lets himself have a drink by the bar. He’s sent his coworker home a while ago now - since she actually has a partner to come home to - and now that the night is over, he’s _finally_ letting himself have a moment to himself, to ponder in silent rage. He needs some release - _deserves_ it - and he needs it soon and without committal. Something casual and fun—something _good_. Iwaizumi gets too caught up with this idea, too focused on his own thoughts to notice the figure sneaking - or, well, probably just walking - up next to him until he speaks.

“Aren’t you going to buy me a drink?” that same handsome - _annoying_ \- stranger asks, leaning onto the bar on his elbow, smiling confidently as if he isn't the single reason to blame for Iwaizumi's mood. Iwaizumi gives him a look, leaving the words hanging in the air for a second before dignifying him with an answer.

“No,” he says.

“Don’t be so cold **,** loosen up a bit, Stranger-kun,” the guy says, sitting down on the barstool next to him, ignoring all of his not-so-simple hints.

Iwaizumi turns to the stranger, holding out a hand to stop him from speaking.

“Listen; you’re probably a nice guy. Probably not, honestly, but maybe a decent guy under—“ Iwaizumi motions at the guy with his hand, taking a sip from his whiskey “—under all _that_. But I’m not interested,” he says, putting down his glass. The stranger stares at him, then laughs.

“That wasn’t very nice of you, Stranger-kun,” he says, waving the bartender over when he finally sees them sitting. “But I’m not here to make you like me, I’m just here for… well,” he licks his lips, turning to the bartender when he stops in front of them. “Two glasses of whatever he’s having,” the stranger says, giving the bartender that same charming smile that he had when talking to the girls before. “I’m just here to have fun,” he says, winking at Iwaizumi. “And I’m never one to back down from a challenge,” he adds.

“Who says this is a challenge? Have you considered that I’m actually not interested and just want some peace?” Iwaizumi asks, just as the bartender puts down two new glasses of whiskey in front of them. The stranger lifts his up in front of the light, looking at the golden liquid.

“If that’s the case, of course I won’t be bothering you anymore,” he says, calmly turning to look at Iwaizumi again as he takes a sip. “If not…” he raises his glass, as if to toast, and Iwaizumi looks down at the glass. He hates the guy. Hates his guts. He’d never fall for a guy like that. And that’s exactly the reason he decides to reach out for the glass, raising it and clinking it against the stranger’s. His smirk widens, different than the one he gave the bartender or the women from earlier, the one he had attempted to use on Iwaizumi at first. This one isn’t feigning innocence; it’s predatory and dangerous **,** ravenous. Iwaizumi wants to wipe that smirk off his face.

“I’m Oikawa; Oikawa Tooru,” the stranger says, reaching his hand out for Iwaizumi to take it.

“Iwaizumi,” he replies, shaking his hand before lifting the glass to his lips again, emptying it.

 

Several more drinks and snarky exchanges later, Oikawa Tooru pushes Iwaizumi up against the wall outside his apartment, one hand on Iwaizumi’s throat, the other hand rummaging through his pocket for the keys.

Iwaizumi turns his head to the side to break the kiss, but Oikawa doesn’t seem to care, continuing to press his lips against the spot right under his ear at his jaw.

“Will you hurry the fuck up?” Iwaizumi hisses as Oikawa tightens his long fingers slightly around his throat, still nowhere near actually close enough to cut off his air supply as he begins nibbling at Iwaizumi’s ear.

“Tsk, tsk, so impatient, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says with a chuckle as he pulls back, holding the keys up before opening the door and pulling Iwaizumi inside by his shirt.

The second the door locks behind them, Oikawa pushes him up against the wall again, this time pressing his knee between Iwaizumi’s thighs as he grinds against him. He wastes no time opening Iwaizumi’s shirt buttons as he kisses him again, forcing his tongue inside Iwaizumi’s mouth before he has time to react and Iwaizumi tilts his head to the side, letting him.

Oikawa explores his mouth for a while with his tongue, pulling away the second he’s done opening the buttons on Iwaizumi’s shirt, grabbing at one side and pulling Iwaizumi with him into his bedroom, opting for pushing Iwaizumi up against the wall _again,_ ignoring the bed. He pushes the now-opened shirt over Iwaizumi’s shoulders, looking down at his now-bared chest.

“Mmm,” Oikawa hums appreciatively, licking his lips, and Iwaizumi scrunches his nose, feeling the urge to cover up as Oikawa hungrily takes him in, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze even though he takes pride in his body normally - he knows he’s muscular, because he’s worked hard for it. Oikawa slides his fingers down his abs before reaching Iwaizumi’s happy trail, chuckling before he leans in again, grinding his pelvis against Iwaizumi’s as he pulls the shirt off completely, throwing it back behind him so it lands on the bed.

“Are you gonna—“ Iwaizumi begins, cut off by the hand grabbing at his crotch suddenly, gasping in surprise. Oikawa leans in and takes his lower lip between his teeth, biting at it.

“What were you saying?” Oikawa asks as he begins to undo Iwaizumi’s belt, his knee still between Iwaizumi’s leg, lazily rolling his hips as he grinds against Iwaizumi’s thigh, his own erection pressed against Iwaizumi’s hip. When Oikawa finally manages to open Iwaizumi’s trousers, he pushes them down over his knees before turning around, letting Iwaizumi finish the work as he kicks them off completely, stepping out of them as he follows Oikawa who’s kicking off his own jeans remarkably faster before crawling onto the bed, turning back to check if Iwaizumi is following him. Iwaizumi doesn’t have much time to crawl onto the bed before Oikawa pulls him closer, pushing him back down to sit in the middle of it, turned towards Oikawa.

“You’ve slept with a guy before, right?” Oikawa asks, calmly, and Iwaizumi frowns, nodding once. “Good,” Oikawa hums before leaning to the side of his bed, opening his bedside drawer and pulling out a tube of lube and a tiny, square foil package, throwing both things onto the bed in front of Iwaizumi as he pulls off his own sweater - Iwaizumi hadn’t even had any time to help _him_ undress, but Oikawa seems just fine with doing so himself, too impatient to wait for Iwaizumi to help him, it seems. When Oikawa turns back, now only wearing boxers as well, Iwaizumi takes a second to appreciate him. Oikawa is definitely an attractive man, and an active one as well, it seems. His chest is pale, but chiseled, his toned muscles flexing as he turns his torso and moves over to sit between Iwaizumi’s spread legs, the lube and condom between them.

“I can do it—“ Iwaizumi begins, reaching for the lube and pushing open the lid, but Oikawa snatches it right out of his hand, giving him that fake-friendly smile again, the one Iwaizumi hates the most.

“Let me. You’re not used to this, are you?” Oikawa asks patronizingly, pressing down the lid so it closes with a ‘click’.

“No. You’re not exactly my type,” Iwaizumi says, raising an eyebrow and looking at Oikawa as he positions himself lower between Iwaizumi’s legs.

“Sure I’m not,” Oikawa says easily, as if he doesn’t believe him, bowing down and mouthing at Iwaizumi’s erection under his boxers.

“Actually, you piss me off,” Iwaizumi adds, lying back and resting on his elbows, biting his lip to keep from making any embarrassing noises. Oikawa’s mouth is warm, his breath hot against his cock, even through the fabric of his underwear. Oikawa doesn’t waste much time teasing him, pulling down the boxers before he looks up, an annoyingly innocent expression on his face.

“What is it about me that pisses you off so much?” he asks, as if he’s genuinely curious, before leaning down, taking Iwaizumi into his mouth.

“I hate _—ha-ah—_ I hate guys that girls go all ‘kyaa’ over,” Iwaizumi explains, half of the sentence through gritted teeth as he tries to keep his voice steady. He remembers the women from earlier that night and snorts, rolling his eyes at how the night had unfolded after that, definitely not as planned.

“Mmm, sure you do,” Oikawa hums as he pulls off his cock, licking at the head.

“I hate that fake smile too,“ Iwaizumi adds, as Oikawa licks, quick and light, right at his slit.

“Yeah,” Oikawa breathes out, as if Iwaizumi’s simply listing off some irrelevant shit, trailing his tongue down the shaft, as if following the trail of a vein.

“I hate—“ Iwaizumi sinks a lump in his throat, throwing his head back when Oikawa takes his cock into his mouth again, sucking in. “—I hate how fucking persistent you are,” he finally manages to say, and Oikawa bops his head up again, _kissing_ the tip of his cock softly.

“Totally,” Oikawa says, like he’s agreeing with him, and Iwaizumi’s grip at the sheet tightens - he hadn’t even noticed that he had grabbed at it.

“I hate—“ he begins, but Oikawa grabs his cock at the hilt, looking up at him.

“Are you done?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Huh?” Iwaizumi asks, trying to sit up properly again, using his hands to press himself up.

“I get it, you hate me, that’s why you’re here, and,“ —Oikawa presses his finger over the slit of his cock, wiping off a drop of precum as he raises his finger in front of him— “you’re totally not turned on,” he says, plopping the finger into his mouth.

Iwaizumi grits his teeth, staring down at him.

“You’re an asshole,” he says, very much turned on and unable to come up with a better insult.

“Yup,” Oikawa says, and suddenly that ravenous smirk is back as he sits up, pressing his knees under Iwaizumi’s thighs, reaching for the lube again. Iwaizumi watches silently as Oikawa pours out the lube, spreading it over his fingers before looking up at Iwaizumi, their eyes locking as he reaches down between Iwaizumi’s legs, teasing at his entrance.

“Just get on with it—” Iwaizumi starts, yelping when Oikawa presses a finger in to the first knuckle, Iwaizumi’s rim tightening around it in surprise. “ _What the hell,_ ” he hisses, looking down at Oikawa, who blinks up at him innocently.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, pressing his finger in further, this time at a slower pace.

“You can’t just—you don’t just—” Iwaizumi begins, his sentence slowly fading out as he realises he doesn’t know how to end it. He _did_ just try and tell Oikawa to hurry, and it hadn’t been enough to actually hurt. “You’re an asshole,” Iwaizumi says, and Oikawa laughs, making him remember that he’s only repeating his words from before. Oikawa works his finger deeper inside him before leaning in over Iwaizumi, meeting him in an openmouthed kiss that he deepens _fast,_ pressing his tongue inside Iwaizumi’s mouth as he reaches around his neck to keep his head still with the hand that he isn’t using to stretch Iwaizumi open. Oikawa pulls his finger out the exact moment Iwaizumi has gotten used to the sensation, pressing _two_ fingers inside this time, earning another yelp from Iwaizumi.

“Fuck you,” Iwaizumi moans, practically into Oikawa’s mouth, because Oikawa is insatiable, _still_ kissing him as he works his fingers inside Iwaizumi, stretching stretching him at a merciless pace, keeping Iwaizumi gasping and never able to relax, _finally_ getting used to the stretch before Oikawa spreads his fingers inside him, scissoring him and earning another gasp that Oikawa only takes as an invitation to _suck at Iwaizumi’s tongue,_ kissing him greedily like he _still_ wants more from Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi hates him, hates that he desperately wants to give whatever it is that Oikawa wants to him.

Oikawa pulls out his fingers, and pulls back from the kiss, leaving Iwaizumi feeling empty and suddenly touch-starved, even though his lips are numb and his cock is throbbing between his legs, neglected after Oikawa had turned his attention to preparing him instead.

Oikawa opens the condom package, pressing down his own boxers and reminding Iwaizumi that his own cock wasn’t the only thing that had been ignored - in fact, since the beginning - as Oikawa rolls the condom onto his flushed, fully erect cock before spreading lube over it, moving back and situating himself in front of Iwaizumi again. Iwaizumi stares down at it, how it bops against his entrance, and he can’t _actually_ see it for his own genitals being in the way, but he can _feel_ the head pressed against his entrance and see how Oikawa fights against the urge to roll his hips forwards and forcefully enter him.

Oikawa looks up, eyes glazed over, his gaze _famished_ , and Iwaizumi’s mouth goes dry. “Ready?” Oikawa asks, and he nods shortly. Oikawa grabs his hips with both hands, digging his fingers into Iwaizumi’s skin, pressing the tip inside.

He’s met by slight resistance as Iwaizumi opens up, slowly, stretching around the head, and Iwaizumi _finally_ exhales when the head has entered past the rim, but the action makes him tighten around Oikawa, and Oikawa reacts by pressing in further, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against Iwaizumi’s, both of their faces now covered in a thin layer of skin, Oikawa’s priorly styled hair now sticking slightly to his skin. Iwaizumi tries to calm his ragged breathing as Oikawa continues pressing inside, filling him up, but the sensation is _so fucking far_ from a couple of fingers, so much more, but also so much better.

The initial sting wears off and Iwaizumi tilts his head upwards, pressing his lips against Oikawa’s, earning a slight gasp in surprise from him before Oikawa kisses him back instantly, intense as ever as he almost forces Iwaizumi’s mouth open, sliding his tongue over his teeth before Iwaizumi opens his mouth further.

Oikawa pulls out slightly, moving one hand from Iwaizumi’s hip to his knee, pressing it to the side, urging him to spread his legs further, and Iwaizumi does, only to be met by a direct thrust, pressing against Iwaizumi’s prostate before he bottoms out, instantly reaching up and scratching at Oikawa’s back, closing his mouth. Oikawa hums, pulling out slightly before opening his eyes, looking down at Iwaizumi.

“You’re—you’re so tight,” he says, and Iwaizumi frowns up at him, licking his flushed, slightly puffed lips. “So hot,” Oikawa adds, leaning down to kiss Iwaizumi again, thrusting into him harder. Iwaizumi gasps, throwing his head back, and Oikawa only moves his mouth down to his throat instead, mapping the unexplored skin with his lips and tongue, sometimes grazing over it with teeth, but only slightly, continuing to fuck into Iwaizumi from that angle, hitting the exact right spot and earning a tiny whimper from Iwaizumi every time he hits it, no matter how hard he tries to shut himself up.

Oikawa’s thrusts become shallower, more irregular, and Iwaizumi realises he’s close when Oikawa grabs around his cock, suddenly, pumping at it hastily from the start.

“You’re— _fuck,_ you’re too much,” Iwaizumi hisses, and Oikawa chuckles, his teeth pressed against the side of Iwaizumi’s throat as he continues to pump at Iwaizumi’s cock, rapidly pushing him towards the edge as heat pools in his abdomen.

“Come for me, Iwa-chan, let me hear you,” Oikawa whispers, his lips right under Iwaizumi’s ear, his tongue trailing Iwaizumi’s jawline. “Be a good boy and come for me,” Oikawa whispers, and that _really_ shouldn’t be sexy, but Iwaizumi cries out as he’s violently pushed over the edge, cum spurting out of him as he trembles, Oikawa _still_ fucking him with powerful, yet shakier thrusts than before, whispering that stupid fucking nickname over and over until Iwaizumi collapses onto the mattress, his entire body tensing as he tightens around Oikawa and Oikawa comes, _biting down_ onto his neck, so hard it’s bordering on painful.

“Asshole,” Iwaizumi hisses again as Oikawa finally lets go, sliding his tongue over the indents his teeth has left in Iwaizumi’s now sensitive skin, and Oikawa pulls out carefully, holding onto the base of his cock - and the condom - before pulling it off and tying a knot around it. Iwaizumi’s entire body is heavy like lead **,** and he’s suddenly very aware of the cum sticking to his stomach and cock, even more so the single drop sliding down his side, and Oikawa seems to become aware the same moment, reaching out for the nearest fabric to wipe off Iwaizumi’s stomach, grabbing some white cloth at the edge of the bed and wiping off Iwaizumi’s cum from his abdomen. Iwaizumi looks up at him before his eyes fix on the cloth in Oikawa’s hand, the thing he just used as a washcloth. _Iwaizumi’s shirt._

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he hisses, pulling the shirt out of Oikawa’s hand, lifting it up to see the damage done to it. Half of the front is curled up, sticking together where the cum is smeared onto it. With an annoyed groan, Iwaizumi lets it fall onto the bed, turning to look at Oikawa again, and Oikawa is giving him that stupidly fake innocent smile again.

“I’ll let you borrow one of mine,” Oikawa promises before plopping down on the bed next to Iwaizumi, snuggling into his side. Iwaizumi rolls over to the side, facing away from Oikawa, and he only gets a second to reflect on his action before he realises his mistake as Oikawa presses closer to him from behind, spooning him as he slings an arm around Iwaizumi’s hip, nuzzling his face into the crook of Iwaizumi’s neck and shoulder.

“Not a big cuddler?” Oikawa asks, his voice low, and Iwaizumi just snorts, making himself more comfortable on the bed.

“You’re an asshole,” he says, far from the first time that night, and Oikawa just chuckles, his mouth so close to Iwaizumi’s ear that he can feel his breath against it. Iwaizumi stifles a yawn, covering his mouth anyway as he blinks slowly, deciding to give up for the night. He’s too fucking exhausted to deal with this idiot, too tired to do anything about the situation. He’ll figure things out in the morning, when his head is more clear, he decides, slowly letting his eyes close and falling asleep, surprisingly warm and comfortable in the arms of that stupid stranger.

 

When Iwaizumi wakes up, everything is _too hot_ , the sweat making his skin stick together uncomfortably, creating an unwelcome friction between his limbs and not just his own, but also the long, slender ones thrown lazily over his side. His mouth tastes like shit - alcohol - and his headache is surprisingly mild, meaning his mind is clear enough for him to remember last night and every single mistake leading him to where he is right now, the other body pressed against his back while snoring quietly. Iwaizumi pushes down the blanket quietly, not remembering when he had even grabbed it, leaning away from Oikawa’s chest.

The action earns a groan from Oikawa, and Iwaizumi freezes, begging for him not to wake up. Oikawa doesn’t, instead he leans in over Iwaizumi again, his arm reaching over and tightening around his chest as he presses his body against Iwaizumi’s back, suddenly making Iwaizumi _very aware_ of the morning wood pressing against the back of his thigh and the cleft of his ass.

Iwaizumi lifts Oikawa’s arm off slowly, carefully pulling away, only exhaling in relief when he can finally put his feet on the floor, not a single part of his body in contact with the guy still snoring on the bed, a stupid grin on his face even while sleeping. Iwaizumi stands up and sneaks over to the pile of clothes on the floor, slowly pulling on his boxers and socks before grabbing his jeans, looking for his shirt. His eyes lands on it on the floor, crumbled up in a pile, and he suddenly remembers what happened last night.

“I told you you could borrow one of mine,” a deep voice suddenly says from the bed and Iwaizumi yelps in surprise, jumping in place.

“What the _fuck,_ you asshole,” Iwaizumi hisses, when Oikawa laughs at his reaction, watching Oikawa sit up in the bed, the sheet sliding off his bare chest. Iwaizumi turns away, grabbing for the shirt Oikawa had pointed to.

“You were going to leave without saying bye?” Oikawa asks, blinking innocently up at him. _Innocent my ass_ , Iwaizumi thinks as he bows over, his ass still slightly sore from last night, like after a really successful workout.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi just admits, showing no shame. He doesn’t owe Oikawa shit, especially not after what he did to Iwaizumi’s shirt.

“That’s not very nice, not after all I did for you last night,” Oikawa says, his voice growing lighter after the sleep-grogginess has disappeared, his head tilted to the side so his bedhead-bangs fall into his face. Even in the morning, he looks ridiculously handsome, and Iwaizumi feels the annoyance burn inside him again.

“Bye, asshole,” Iwaizumi says, reaching down for his shirt before turning around to walk out the room, hoping to get home as soon as possible.

“Bye, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa calls cheerily after him, _too cheery_ for someone who just woke up and who’s supposed to have a hangover as well. Iwaizumi puts on his shoes when he reaches the genkan, walking out the door and smacking it closed after him, leaving the apartment as hastily as he can.

He grabs the collar of the shirt and pulls it up to his nose, inhaling the smell and closing his eyes. It smells like that bastard. Like really good sex and that stupidly annoying smile. He shouldn’t be turned on.

 

The next time Iwaizumi meets Oikawa Tooru, it’s in a coffee shop in the same district they met the first time. Iwaizumi’s initial reaction upon seeing him is turning around, hiding behind the pillar in the middle of the room with the menus on it, the only thing in the room he can use for cover.

Oikawa’s wearing a suit this time, looking up at the other menu hanging behind the counter - luckily for Iwaizumi - figuring out how to order. This is fine. Iwaizumi’s coffee should be done within a minute and he can be on his way, out the door before Oikawa even has a time to turn around and say his name.

“Americano for Iwaizumi-san!” the barista calls out into the store, and Iwaizumi freezes, grimacing as he walks up to the counter, eyes fixed on the cup between her hands as she puts on a lid, handing it over to him.

“Thank you,” he says, quietly, begging for the voice inside him warming about the presence nearing him with confident strides to be wrong, just this once.

“Iwa-chan, so nice to see you again!” he says, his voice loud enough for the nearby people to turn their heads, and Iwaizumi closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath as he gathers patience to deal with Oikawa Tooru.

He turns around slowly, raising an eyebrow.

“Hello,” he says, internally applauding himself for keeping his voice completely calm.

“Why were you hiding? Surely not from me, right, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa says, chirpily, as he leans in, eyes shimmering and mouth stretched wide into that fucking smile, like he’s weighing up Iwaizumi to see if he can swallow him in one mouthful or something.

“Of course not,” Iwaizumi says, not hiding his displeasure at having this conversation.

“Mmh,” Oikawa hums, tilting his head to the side with that cocky grin still on his face, leaning in towards Iwaizumi. “You left so quickly that morning too,” he adds, pouting theatrically as if he’s actually disappointed about it.

“Yeah, sorry, I had—” Iwaizumi stops, mid sentence, realising what he’s doing. “I don’t need to come up with a bad excuse for you, really,” he says, calmly, before taking a sip of his coffee.

Oikawa raises an eyebrow, looking like he’s still contemplating what reaction to give. Then the barista calls his name and he takes a step back, accepting it from her with that other smile again - the fake, overly excited one. Oikawa turns completely towards her, reaching out for a napkin and something else, and Iwaizumi suddenly sees his chance of an escape. He turns to leave, ignoring the high-pitched noise escaping from Oikawa behind him as he makes his way towards the exit, the door only metres away, freedom only—

—Oikawa grabs his shoulder, forcing him to turn around. Iwaizumi doesn’t try to hide his frown this time, but when Oikawa forces the napkin into his hand, he’s too shocked to do anything but accept as Oikawa pulls back, putting a pen into his blazer pocket. Iwaizumi looks down to see what’s scribbled on it. A phone number.

He opens his mouth to protest, but Oikawa covers his mouth, interrupting him before he even has a chance to reject him. “You should call me one day, Iwa-chan,” he says, winking as he pulls back his hand. Iwaizumi’s frown grows deeper as he stares at Oikawa in disbelief, before Oikawa takes a sip from his own coffee, taking a step back. “Thats sweater looks amazing on you, by the way,” Oikawa says, walking straight past Iwaizumi, making sure their shoulders graze as he opens the door, leaving him stunnedand staring after him in the middle of the coffee shop as he takes in Oikawa’s words.

Iwaizumi looks down in confusion, his face instantly changing to one of horror as he realises just why Oikawa had been smirking so widely the whole time. The sweater he’s wearing isn’t his own, it’s the one he had borrowed from Oikawa. Unable to hold back his growl of annoyance, Iwaizumi pushes the door open a bit too hard, leaving the coffee shop in hasty strides, waiting for his cheeks to stop burning.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, opening a new message as he puts in the number from the napkin that he holds, pressed up against his coffee cup.

**Iwaizumi:** I’ll meet up with you. To give you back your sweater.

He puts the phone back into his pocket, curling the napkin angrily into a ball before taking another sip from his coffee. His phone vibrates in his pocket less than a minute after.

**Iwaizumi:** I’ll meet up with you. To give you back your sweater.  
  
**Oikawa:** Just the sweater? ;) or should I bring condoms? 

Iwaizumi grits his teeth together, clenching his fist as he tries to hold back his need to hit the guy, hit _something_ , before he presses the text field to reply.

**Iwaizumi:** I’ll meet up with you. To give you back your sweater.  
  
**Oikawa:** Just the sweater? ;) or should I bring condoms?   
  
**Iwaizumi:** Just the sweater.  
  
**Iwaizumi:** Bring condoms.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to [this work](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845/chapters/14729722) for help with the message coding!
> 
> my daily streak with posting of new works ended but i have a lot of shit planned fear not (or rather, Fear it)
> 
> as always, feel welcome to hmu abt aun


End file.
